The Few and the Far Between
by Myaku1
Summary: Eiri x Shuichi. Eiri decides that he's had enough watching the vocalist cry.... (Chapter 4 Now Uploaded. COMPLETE.)
1. The Few And the Far Between

The Few And the Far Between  
  
Author: Myaku  
  
Series: Gravitation  
  
Pairing: Shuichi x Eiri (implied)  
  
  
  
Always.. the few and the far between.  
  
The soft lamplight illuminated the room, haloing the magenta haired vocalist who slept peacefully on the bed. Sheets had been tangled, covering portions of his body. Patches of fair skin were revealed in the tangle of white sheets, and glowed softly in the dim light. To the quiet author.. he looked beautiful.  
  
But for some reason, that night, Yuki Eiri didn't feel like sleeping. And he rose from the bed, crossing the room to the doorway. Wistfully glancing at the boy who slumbered in his bed, he exited from the room, wandering down the hall to his office, where he quietly opened the door, and slipped through. Socked feet made their way across the floor to the chair that sat before the laptop. He leaned forward, pressing the small button and he heard a whirl from deep inside the machine as it began to boot.  
  
The coldness seemed normal to him. The shell that he'd secluded himself into so many years ago seemed a normality. And at first, he didn't want to let the annoying brat, that was Shindou Shuichi, destroy everything he'd worked so hard to create. Everything he'd worked so hard to protect.  
  
He was set in his ways, and yet everytime the vocalist came around, it seemed to change everything. Small habits began to form, and the affectionate ways from so long ago surfaced every now and then, even though it was much against his will. It wasn't as if he wanted to love the boy.  
  
It just sort of happened.  
  
And then it became a needy thing. Visits became fewer as Shuichi began to spend more time at the studio and Eiri on his new story. The writer found himself rising earlier in the morning, just to see a glimpse of the vocalist's sweet smile before he ducked out the door carrying his papers and a quickly cooling breakfast.  
  
An idiot, Eiri mused.  
  
But Shuichi was his idiot.  
  
Fingers slowly tapped the thin plastic, and he watched as letters began to appear on the screen. Letters formed words, and the words formed sentences that slowly began to mingle and formed paragraphs of beauty and harmony.  
  
And then his finger hovered over a particular key on his keyboard.  
  
And the button was pressed.  
  
And the screen cleared.  
  
Romance. Why did everything surround romance? So many of his stories surrounded his relationship with Shuichi. Of course, his publisher, and his fans, even Shuichi himself didn't know that. Though Shuichi didn't read his stories either. The boy could barely keep still for ten minutes. Eiri would love to see him try to sit still long enough to read.  
  
Fingers struck the keys again.  
  
Three hours and two cigarettes later, Eiri had finished two chapters and the girlfriend was near death.  
  
A disease. He decided not to choose one yet. Let the thought linger and make her death slow. A smile slid across his face and he rolled the chair back slightly, staring at the screen. He didn't care if she died. It was just a character.  
  
Even if it was the character that normally portrayed Shuichi.  
  
It was his story. They were all expendable. And that's all he kept in mind.  
  
His finger reached to touch that button again, and he paused, and changed his mind of the deletion. Instead, momentarily satisfied, he saved the story onto the computer, closed it carefully. He listened to it hum quietly, as he left the room.  
  
Turning, he walked back down the hallway towards his bedroom. Twisting open the doorknob, he pushed it open, letting the warm air hit his face as he took a step into the jungle-like atmosphere that hung in the room, and sat down on the edge of the bed.  
  
Beads of sweat clung to Shuichi's face. Eiri reached out to brush them away and then caught his hand as fingers brushed along the soft hair, and mid- movement and pulled away. It was Shuichi's own fault. He always came home and cranked up the heat, claiming that Eiri's apartment was as cold as he could be.  
  
And hearing that hurt sometimes, too.  
  
He stared at his fingertips, which had only seconds ago ran along the edge of those magenta locks. He didn't understand why the feeling of those silk tendrils felt so pleasant against his calloused fingers, and for a minute, he felt dirty.  
  
This wasn't right. He didn't deserve this.  
  
He reached down into the drawer of the nightstand, and pushed aside random tubes of lubrication, packs of cigarettes that had been hidden away, and discarded alcohol bottles. A drawer in which he knew the lyricist would never look was where he stored the little box entangled in soft green velvet. He opened the little box, and looked lovingly at the gold band. A single amber crushed between two amethyst stones, reflecting both men's eyes, and just how Eiri felt everyday. Smothered. But it wasn't something he regretted.  
  
This was something he wanted, yet he knew he couldn't follow through. He knew he didn't deserve it.  
  
He was tired of seeing those large, adoring violet eyes gazing at him with tears when the blonde man couldn't whisper, "I love you", or couldn't give the attention that the vocalist desperately needed.  
  
His fingers tumbled over the box, fingering the small ring as he laid it out on his pillow, knowing the vocalist would see it in the morning. He grabbed a pen and a piece of paper, and elegantly etched the kanji across the pallid sheet. Leave it to Eiri to write like a westerner, kanji from left to right. He scanned over the words again, and nodded. Innocent, yet direct. It wouldn't raise suspicion nor questions from the lyricist… well, not too many, he mused. Taking one last glance, he crossed out "Yuki Eiri" and wrote in his real name. "Uesugi Eiri". There was no need for his penname anymore. He laid it softly next to the ring, and stared at it for one more moment, before lowering his vision.  
  
He tried to imagine the boy gone. He felt the saline prick the edges of his golden eyes, recalling the month long tour that BAD LUCK had gone on recently. He couldn't stand the silence, and was so used to the whiny voice that grated his nerves, but deep down he truly loved.  
  
Of course, he'd never admit that.  
  
Yet during that month, the writer had barely finished his new story in time, and had ended up dropping his sales as critics attacked him brutally, screaming about a lack in storyline and a deep hatred that had welled for the female character, which resulted in her death in the end. The media blamed it on Shuichi, and their new found love. Little did the critics know that the book would have never been made without the magenta-haired vocalist.  
  
He wondered why it was so difficult to function without the nuisance there, hanging off his every word, and jabbering like a love-sick school girl when he came home from school. Yet without it, the writer felt incomplete. But in the end, the solution was simple.  
  
Shuichi was his balance. Shuichi helped to tip the scale on days when stress was at its peak, and wandering thoughts of alcohol and suicide as a 'pro' seemed much more 'con' appropriate, once the lyricist had stolen the spotlight to help ease the day.  
  
But not anymore.  
  
He had lived alone before, and he was sure with enough adjustment, he could do it again. Though it bothered him, because he couldn't remember what it was like back then. He couldn't remember solo breakfast, or sleeping without the warmth, and smaller body whispering silent phrases against his neck.  
  
But that would all change, and the familiarities would change back to the norm. After all, everyone learned to adapt to change. It was a way of life, and Yuki Eiri's life was no exception.  
  
He got up and got dressed in the dim light, fingers groping along the wall until he came across the cool handle of the closet. Noiselessly sliding it open, slim digits grasped hangers, and clothes were ripped from the metal wire and slipped quietly into the navy luggage bag. He turned and walked across the room, and opened the dresser drawers, knocking the contents from the drawers into the duffel bag he held below. For once he was happy that Shuichi could sleep through a tornado, it made the process a lot less nerve wracking, and he didn't have to worry about the vocalist waking and disturbing his flight into the darkness.  
  
Satisfied with what he had grabbed, he took one last glance at the boy, heaving a sigh, and walked out the door, slipping it shut behind him. He tiptoed into his study and shut down the laptop, loading it into the sturdy leather case and walked back out. The time would come and all his other belongings would follow, but for now, it would just be.  
  
He walked back to the bedroom once more, and slipped in, walking over to the bedside where the young boy slumbered, chasing after his dreams. He gently reached down and placed a soft kiss on the magenta-haired vocalist's lips, and hurried from the room as his vision began to blur.  
  
He walked back out into the living room, and walked over to the small table, where a photo laid encased in glass. The good times, when he'd been able to please Shuichi without making him cry. Yet even then, he knew the boy suffered. It wasn't easy, but he knew this would be for the best. He scooped up the stack of CDs, his eyes scanning the covers rapidly. They were the first press copies that Shuichi had given him of BAD LUCK, when the band had first released their CD. It was special, and something he still wanted to take with him. Taking one last look at the picture, he picked it up as well, and tucked it under his arm as he walked back to the counter, dumping the newly obscured objects in his bag. Picking up his luggage, he stood there for all of a second before exhaling into the stale air, and grabbed the bags. Irritation caused those fine blonde brows to curve downwards, and he grabbed his keys off the counter.  
  
"Goodbye… Shuichi."  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
The vocalist woke up to a cold bed and an even colder body. He cracked open his eyes, wondering where Eiri could possibly be at this hour in the morning. The writer almost always depended on the lyricist to wake him up, so this truly didn't make sense. He hadn't had any meetings today, so where could he have gone?  
  
Rolling over, he yawned, a pink tongue flickering over chapped lips, and recoiling back into the cavern of his mouth. He rubbed his eyes, stretching over the length of the bed as his hands brushed up against the piece of paper that had been laid out on Eiri's pillow. Curiously he leaned up, and his eyes fell on the ring that laid on the bed.  
  
Could it be…..?  
  
His eyes watered and he picked it up, nuzzling it against his cheek and clutched it tightly in his palm as he let the tears spill over. "Oh Eiri, I love it so much…" he murmured into the silence. "But why…?" He reached out and picked up the piece of paper, scanning the contents. Damn the writer and his habits of writing. Couldn't he write like everyone else? But no, his lover had to be unique.  
  
"Dear Shuichi…  
  
I've been called away on a promotional business trip for my new book. If you need me, I'll be on the cell. (01) 3918-9834.  
  
Practice hard and eat right. Remember to take care of yourself while I am gone.  
  
Uesugi Eiri "  
  
A plucked pink eyebrow rose slightly at the conclusion of the note. Eiri never used his last name. Shaking his head, he clutched the ring tighter, and quickly got dressed, slipping it on his finger. "I'll call him when I get home tonight…I'm going to be late for work!"  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
He trudged in the door quietly. It was unusual to not hear the usual tapping of keys on the laptop, but then he remembered Eiri was away. And it all made sense. Dropping his bag, he hurried over the phone, and picked up the piece of paper, reading the numbers again as he plugged them into the phone. He hoped he wouldn't be interrupting anything, but Eiri was usually working on his laptop at this point in the day, so he was pretty positive that he'd get through alright.  
  
"Sumimasen.. this number is non-existent. Please try to dial again. …… Sumimasen, this …"  
  
He looked at the phone for a moment, and then set the paper down, hanging up the phone as he scowled at the numbers. Had he dialed it wrong? He quickly pushed the numbers again, repeating them aloud as he hit the final '4', and waited for it to ring.  
  
"Sumimasen.. this number is non-existent. Please try to dial again. …… Sumimasen, this number is non-existent …"  
  
Tears pricked his eyes, and the sleek black phone slipped from his grasp, and fell to the floor, clattering along the linoleum. He stared down at it as he heard the mechanical woman's voice repeat that same phrase again. He kicked the phone, and watched as it ricocheted off the floor and collided with the wall. As it fell to the floor again, it reminded the lyricist of a body being hit by a car, and resting silently as soon as death turned the person's vision black.  
  
"Eiri.. how could you?"  
  
Maybe he was jumping to conclusions, Perhaps the writer's phone was out of the service area, or in his rush to leave he'd written the number wrong? But too much began to add up, and Shuichi hit himself in the head for being so naive. He pulled the ring off his finger and examined it, as the tears began to slip down his cheeks.  
  
It wasn't real.. it couldn't be real…  
  
"Sumimasen…."  
  
Yet he knew it was.  
  
They'd been through so much in the past, yet then, every time Eiri had left, he'd always returned. Yet this time, Shuichi didn't feel hopeful at all.  
  
He fell to his knees, clutching the ring. Arms gathered around his body and he began to sob violently. "Eiri, come back, please…" yet he knew his cries were merely in vain, and his heart sank lower every time the voice continued to repeat loudly from the receiver. Grabbing his keys, he hurried from the house, slamming the door behind him. He needed to get away. He couldn't deal with this now.  
  
Nothing could remain normal.  
  
It was always the few and the far between. 


	2. Tears Cannot Express Enough

The Few and the Far Between — Part 2  
  
  
  
Tears burned in the edges of his eyes. He didn't understand how the man he loved could do this to him.  
  
Again.  
  
A third time.  
  
Yet he cursed himself as he ran up the steps to the NG studio. He knew it hadn't been Eiri's fault, the writer had been through so much, and it wasn't his intention to hurt Shuichi… at least that is what the vocalist believed.  
  
The middle of the night. There was no reason for Eiri to leave in the middle of the night. He could have waited a few more hours until the sun began to rise, to at least kiss the vocalist goodbye and explain his absence. Yet it still didn't make sense. Why the ring? He didn't understand why the ring would be given if Eiri was going to run away.  
  
Yet if Eiri had run….  
  
Shuichi knew the one person who would know where he'd gone to.  
  
"Excuse me! No, you can't go pa---" But the secretary's words were merely in vain as the magenta haired vocalist bound past her desk and ran down the long hallway to Seguchi Tohma's office. Fingers groped the door handle, yanking it open. Sea blue eyes gazed up at the vocalist, startled. He'd never see such an angry have carried in those normally soft violet hues.  
  
"Seguchi-san!" Shuichi hissed, his voice brimming with anger and sadness. "Where is he?" The vocalist walked up and grabbed the older man by his jacket. Fists held tightly to the cloth as violet eyes burned into the matching blue of the NG manager. "Where is Eiri?"  
  
Tohma looked down at the younger man, his eyes full of pure shock as hands grabbed his clothes and tugged on him roughly. He stared into the amethyst tear filled eyes, and sighed softly. He hadn't been called by Eiri, and had no idea of his plans this time. Yet a gold band on Shuichi's fingers caught the eye of the Nittle Grasper member, and he paused, gently reaching up to run his finger over it. "Shindou-san… I… I really don't know…" he said softly.  
  
Fingers tightened around the green cloth and then fell away, the vocalist slipping to his knees as he grasped the hem of Tohma's shirt, and began to cry. "He.. he gave me this ring, and…." He sniffled, looking up at the manager sorrowfully. "This isn't like him! He wouldn't leave me again! Not after all we've been through!" He cried, and fresh tears pooled in the corner of his eyes, and slipped down his cheeks.  
  
Tohma looked down at the small piece of paper that the lyricist was clutching. Gently tugging it from his grasp, he scanned over it, his eyes darting to the teenager and back at the paper. Shuichi was right. After all they'd been through, Eiri had promised Mika and Tohma he'd be faithful and protect the young vocalist who'd stolen his heart.  
  
So where had Eiri gone?  
  
The number was false. Tohma knew that just by looking at it. Amusing that the singer had been living with the writer for well over a year and didn't have his cell phone number. Well, perhaps he did, but hadn't memorized it. Shuichi did seem to be a scatter brain like that.  
  
He watched the young boy sob quietly, burying his face into the keyboardist's waist, and held tight. Tears continued to flow down his pale cheeks as his face reddened from the emotion and the warmth in the room.  
  
"Shindou-san…." He sighed and gently knelt down, threading his fingers through the cotton-candy locks, and titled the lyricist's head enough so their eyes met. "Shuichi… I don't know where Eiri-san went. But I will find him for you… "  
  
Because you are what makes Eiri happy.  
  
Shuichi looked up and hugged the older man tighter, whispering "thank you's" that got caught in the damp shirt and slowly lost meaning as soon as they lost sound. His balled his fist tightly, glancing over at the ring that he wore proudly on his hand, and smiled a little as a beam of light caught the stones and they gleamed gently in the sunlight.  
  
Tohma bent down, scooping Shuichi into a hug before pulling the boy to his feet. Once again handing him the small paper, he ruffled his hair through the lyricist's pink locks and nodded, turning back towards his desk. "Head home.. take the day off. Stay by the phone to see if he calls you? I'm sure he'll turn up, Shindou-san.. but these things take time…"  
  
He turned back around and smiled apologetically, folding his arms. Green- grey eyes cast a small wash of sadness as he once again met eyes with the vocalist.  
  
"Especially with Eiri-san… these things take time."  
  
* * *  
  
It had been nearly forty eight hours.  
  
It had been nine beers later.  
  
It had been the death of twelve cigarettes.  
  
And Yuki Eiri had taken about all he could handle. Why was he affected so badly by this boy? He didn't understand it. It grated his nerves and he wanted to yell and hit something. But then he'd be acting like a spoiled Shuichi.  
  
And he couldn't do that. It would look bad.  
  
But not too much longer, right? He looked at his phone helplessly, and then his eyes ran over his hand which carried the matching ring to Shuichi's own. Of course the boy hadn't called yet. He was still at work for sure, yet…  
  
He glanced at his watch. It was well into supper time, and he hadn't called yesterday either. Did the writer mean that little to him?  
  
And then he remembered. He hadn't written down the right number. Switching two digits so they boy couldn't reach him. Because it would have interrupted everything.  
  
It would have ruined everything.  
  
Blonde hair shook quietly and he took a long drag from his cigarette, leaning back in his chair as he stared around the empty room. He exhaled, watching the blue smoke coil up to the ceiling.  
  
Not too much longer….  
  
The phone rang and he dropped his cigarette, grasping the small piece of plastic in his hand and quickly pushing the button to speak. "Moshi moshi?" The words came out casually, as if worry was the last thing on his mind, yet the deeply furrowed eyebrows told otherwise.  
  
"Eiri-san?" A worried voice echoed over the phone, and small scowl crossed the writer's face as he picked up his cigarette from the wooden floor and inhaled deeply. "Eiri-san, where did you go? Shindou-san was here, and he was such a mess, and—"  
  
"Tohma.." The cool voice spoke quietly into the receiver, and he exhaled. "You need to go by my house. There are some movers picking everything up… I need you to sign the papers, because if Shuichi does, he'll find me…"  
  
Tohma's eyes widened, and silence radiated from both lines for a minute. Smoke rose into the air as it was released again, and Eiri's eyes focused on the wall as he waited for the keyboardist to speak again.  
  
"I sent Shuichi home… Eiri-san.." Tohma whispered.  
  
A snarl rose from deep into Eiri's throat. Figures that the manager would ruin everything. He had so many times, why would this be an exception? The cigarette was snubbed out and he squeezed the phone tightly. "Beat him there.. and get that paper, Seguchi." He hissed. He didn't feel like talking anymore, and thin digits swung the phone around, and he pushed the off button.  
  
Just what he needed.  
  
Complications. 


	3. Run The Distance To The One You Love

The Far and Few Between – 3  
  
  
  
Fingers tangled themselves into his rich hair, and he screamed, batting away the arms that tightened around him. Warmth was pressed against his neck and his chest, drips of moisture left in the attempt to disgust the boy. And then it came closer…  
  
"Eiri help me!" he screamed as he woke up, covering his face. Shuichi looked around the empty apartment. All the lights had been turned off, the small plant in the corner cast small shadows on the walls from the early morning light. He sighed, swinging his legs over the edge of the couch, and planting small feet on the cold wooden floor. Looking around the room, he shivered, rubbing his hands together. Had Eiri turned the heat down?  
  
His eyes caught sight of the ring that hugged his finger and shined softly, and it all came back to him. Eiri had left. And now he was all alone, where the nightmares could consume him.  
  
Yes. The nightmares. It had been so many months ago that Eiri had admitted to Shuichi that he could no longer tell the vocalist that he couldn't understand what the author felt, and what he'd had been through.… the feeling of mistrust, the feeling of abuse, and the feeling of filth. And ever since Shuichi had encountered Aisawa.. he felt just that. Filthy.  
  
He wouldn't touch Eiri for days after that. Finally an explosion one night on the author's behalf pushed the cotton-candy haired boy back into his arms and into his bed. It was something they shared, that feeling of helplessness that they grew stronger on together, surviving, and existing with the single purpose to love each other the best they could and fight the battles that plagued their happiness.  
  
But then the nightmares began.  
  
Because Aisawa never really went away. Neither did the media. Ever since Eiri's public announcement, they'd constantly been around, checking up on Eiri's new work and trying to catch a glimpse of the passionate lovers at play, watching tv, and even just working. Yet it seemed for months that Shuichi still looked over his shoulder for the other vocalist, and refused to go anywhere alone.  
  
Not that Eiri would have let him.  
  
A personal body guard, he'd become. It seemed stupid at times, but for the screams released from the boy in his sleep and the silent cries periodically during the day, Eiri felt it was his duty. He couldn't deal with the lyricist making noise, yet in this sense, he'd rather hear the garbled screams and laughter than hear sobs wafting into his study because Shuichi was too nervous to walk in for comfort.  
  
His personal mission to help his lover to recovery.  
  
And although it seemed to end so long ago, and Aisawa disappeared after his two unnerving visits to the apartment, the nightmares still remained. On nights when Shuichi was alone or feeling particularly insecure. And Eiri couldn't stand it.  
  
The sound of the doorbell interrupted his thoughts, and he rose quietly, a pink eyebrow rising as he padded across the room, and peered through the tiny hole in the door. Who could it be? He didn't recognize the men on the other side. He took a step back, fear washing through him, and he closed his eyes, remembering events from earlier times.  
  
"Anou… can I help you?" he called out through the door, his fingers lingering on the doorknob.  
  
The man looked up and widened his eye a little, peering into the small piece of glass. Shuichi took a step back as a piece of paper was thrust up towards the looking-glass. "Hai! We were sent here to move the furniture, remember? We need you to fill out some paper work, and…"  
  
The man never finished his words as the door was flung open, and Shuichi stood before them, arms folded tightly, a pure look of hatred radiating across his face as he stood in the doorway. So it was true. Eiri was truly leaving him. Yet sadness was the furthest thing from his mind, as two men pushed past him, and looked around the room. "Everything looks packed enough, let's get started…."  
  
Shuichi turned and looked at them incredulously. "Anou, I…" He scowled as items were picked up and roughly placed in boxes. "Er.. HEY!" he shouted. "Stop, I don—" he waved his fists at them but just let his words trail. It wasn't doing him any good wasting his already itchy voice.  
  
"Are you… Seguchi Tohma?" The man asked, looking up from his clipboard and raising an eyebrow at the young boy.  
  
Tohma? Why would Tohma…. He shook his head ignoring the question and decided to answer. Maybe he could find Eiri this way. "Hai… Hai, I'm Seguchi Tohma, now, wh--" He stopped speaking as papers were shoved under his nose, and a pen was jammed in his fingers.  
  
"Fill these out."  
  
Blinking, he sat down at the stool and leaned over the counter looking at the paper. His eyes scanned over an address written at the top. It was on the outskirts of Tokyo… about thirty minutes from here. Tapping the edge of the paper with the pen, he shifted his gaze to look up at the man who continued motioning the others to work. "Anou… this is where it's being moved, right?"  
  
The man looked at him and nodded before turning around. "That's right, what.. are you done?"  
  
Shuichi nodded, scribbling his signature at the bottom of the paper. Snatching the pink copy, he handed the other two back to the man and nodded. "Thank you very much. I need to go now, I'm sure you can show yourself out! Thank you!" he cried, and skidded to the door, grabbing his backpack. "Thank you!" he piped again, and darted out the door clutching the bag and the pink paper tightly.  
  
The man shook his head and rested his hands on his hips. "Man.. kids these days are getting weirder and weirder."  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Blue smoke rose slowly to the ceiling. It was about the time Tohma should be arriving at his house to pick up the papers and make sure everything had been moved appropriately. He exhaled, watching the dark smoke rise higher. His thoughts drifted to how his young lover had slept the night before. It had only been two nights before he left that Shuichi had had another nightmare. It was one of the worst ones yet. The magenta-haired vocalist had screamed for nearly an hour, and then nearly hit the author in his attempt to get close enough to console him.  
  
Eiri had no idea what could have brought it on.  
  
And then he had left the bedroom to make Shuichi some tea, in an attempt to make him calm down and sleep again. And he saw the magazine that laid carelessly out on the coffee table. The vocalist was pictured on the cover, and there had been a long slash where the cover pictures split… to one of Aisawa.  
  
And it all made sense.  
  
He remembered flipping open the pages and NG had given testimony to all that happened in the pages, explaining ASK's sudden producer change, with reasons that consisted of differences with other produced bands and image alteration, and that NG hoped "He was as successful as he had been with NG." Leave it to Tohma to candy-coat a problem for the public after handling it himself. No mention was given to how Shuichi was effected, how BAD LUCK was coping, or how the media was treating the ordeal. It had been written off as if it was Shuichi's fault. It made him sick, and he ripped the magazine nearly in two before flinging it into the trashcan, and continued to make his lover tea.  
  
That night, the decision had been made.  
  
He shifted on the couch, and gently rubbed his stomach, remembering he hadn't eaten since last night. He'd barely touched the new story, and after contacting his publisher with his new phone number and address, requested a two week extension so he could "get properly adjusted to the surroundings".  
  
Little did they know how much adjustment was yet to be done.  
  
He flipped through the phone book, and settled on a small Thai delivery to get food. He usually cooked for himself and stuck to traditional Japanese food, but for the evening, this was what he was in the mood for. Pushing the buttons on the phone, he quietly placed an order and hung up, dropping it onto the floor beside him as he took another long draw from his cigarette.  
  
It was to be a long night.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Tohma hurried up the stairs and frowned when he reached the level to Eiri's apartment. For movers, they were being extremely quiet. Almost…too quiet. As he rounded the corner, he saw a dim light filtering in from the doorway, which had been left open a crack. He grasped the door handle and pulled it open, and gasped in shock.  
  
He was too late. The house was empty.  
  
Looking around, he walked in and climbed the two wooden steps that led to the large tv room. He looked down at the yellow sheet of paper, which had been carelessly left on the floor. He bent down to pick it up, and glanced it over. A signature which was highly unreadable had been scribbled at the bottom, and the final sheet which should have been included was missing.  
  
The answer was obvious of course. It had been from the minute he saw the paper.  
  
Shuichi.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
The doorbell rang and Eiri cracked open an eye, and peered at the oak door from where he sat. That was extremely fast service. He'd have to buy from them again, if they were any good. "Hold on." He called and walked around the length of the counter, looking for his wallet. Upon its retrieval, he walked over to the door, and unlatching it, he took another long drag from his cigarette as he opened his wallet.  
  
"Alright, how much will it be…." his voice trailed off as his eyes rose, meeting the sorrowful violet gaze of Shuichi. The cigarette slipped from his lips and fell carelessly to the ground along with his wallet that had been fumbled and not caught.  
  
"Shuichi…" he whispered, and stepped back, surprised. Dammit, Tohma couldn't do anything right, could he? The boy stared at him with tear filled eyes, and clenched fists. Golden eyes glanced him up and down once, and settled on the ring that hugged the lyricist's finger. Relief flushed through his body and was visibly seen by his facial expression, but was quickly replaced by anger and he stepped forward, scowling at the boy.  
  
He couldn't think of the right words to say, and he shifted his gaze. He just couldn't look into the deep pool of his lover's amethyst hues without feeling guilt. Turning around, he folded his arms, and closed his eyes, exhaling softly.  
  
"Shuichi… why are you here? … More importantly.. how did you get the address?"  
  
Everything had been ruined. Ideas destroyed beyond repair. Damn him and his deep love for the author. Damn him and his curiosity. But he shook his head. He may as well damn himself as well.. for his attitude and secrecy. Sighing, he held the door open and invited the boy in, closing it behind him and turning to face the young lyricist again. There was only one thing left he could do.  
  
Explain. 


	4. Till Death Do We Part

Author's Note: Sorry it took so long. I saw a lot of people pleased, but a few saying my heavy dialogued chapters weren't as good as the others. Unfortunately, this had to be a heavy dia for me to finish it in four parts, but I've taken my time and I'm very pleased with it. Eiri is a sweetie.. because I like how he acted in the manga. ^_^ So here it is, the conclusion of my first multi-chaptered Gravitation story. Enjoy, and reviews are welcomed.  
  
  
  
  
  
The Few and the Far Between – 4 Till Death Do We Part  
  
  
  
Violet met the dark gaze of amber and he stared, fumbling the ring between his fingers. "I… I can't stay away." He whispered.  
  
The author raised an eyebrow and lit a new cigarette, remaining silent. If only the singer knew how badly he'd ached to be with his lover as well. He couldn't deal anymore with the cries and the fearful glances. He was grateful for all Tohma and K had done to rid the couple of the man that haunted his lover, but it was never enough.  
  
It would never be enough.  
  
He knew only he could help. Though the reasoning had been so simple, it could not have been done any other way then it was. He knew how big of a mouth Shuichi had… it just couldn't be done.  
  
"I … I need you, Eiri.." Shuichi continued.  
  
If only the vocalist could realize how much he was truly needed, too.  
  
The longing welt in his heart, and at that moment he wanted to hold the cotton-candy haired boy, and express just how much he needed and loved him too. Anger had long since burned away. It wasn't truly anger to begin with, mainly impatience that the vocalist didn't ever wait for explanation.  
  
But at the same time…  
  
He felt relieved.  
  
The author held his hand out to the lyricist, in an attempt to bring him closer to himself. "Have you had any nightmares recently?" Golden eyes grazed over the boy. Dark circles visibly surrounded his eyes. He knew the boy had probably sat watching the door since he'd left. He didn't even know if the boy had eaten... probably not.  
  
The idiot.  
  
He glanced at his watch, and mildly wondered where the dinner was. Shuichi still remained silent, and he waved his arm slightly, urging Shuichi to answer him. Eyes softened ever so slightly as he took another long draw from his cigarette.  
  
"Just answer.. Shuichi..."....I won't get mad.  
  
Shuichi bit his lip and gently reached out, taking Eiri's hand. Where had that question come from? "I took a nap this afternoon and had one.." he whispered. He let himself be folded into the blonde man's arms, and he rested his head in the crook of his neck. "I don't understand… why did you leave?"  
  
It didn't make sense. He twisted the ring around his finger, and sighed deeply. He never could understand his lover. He was always so mysterious, yet perhaps that was one of the things that made the author quite so enticing.  
  
Perhaps that was what made him love the author even more.  
  
Eiri smiled softly, but turned his head, hiding the amusement from the boy. Such simple matters that the young one worried about. He hoped that the lyricist always remained so innocent and naive of the world. Yet after the ordeal with Aisawa, he knew he may as well be wishing on a star. He quietly put out his cigarette, looking down at the boy. "I was tired.. of seeing you cry. All because of me, you had to suffer…."  
  
Since the beginning, he'd blamed himself. It never stopped, and the cycle continued, but once the nightmares with Aisawa began, the terrible thoughts intensified as did Shuichi's disturbed behavior, and it began to hurt his work, his lifestyle, and more importantly, their relationship.  
  
And that, was something that Yuki Eiri would not tolerate.  
  
Shuichi's eyes widened, understanding. He clutched the edge of violet fabric and sat up, straddling the man's waist as he stared deeply into the golden eyes. "No! No, it wasn't because of you, it would never be you…" he whispered. He pressed his face into Eiri's shirt, nuzzling his chest gently before pressing a kiss through the silky fabric and sitting back up to gaze at his lover's pained features.  
  
Eiri nodded, yet glanced at the doorway, avoiding contact. "I wanted to get away. I thought if we got away, the nightmares would go away.. and you'd be happy. I saw that magazine, it made me so angry…"  
  
How Tohma could let something such as that be published was beyond him. It infuriated him, to have his lover exposed in such horrid ways. Yet he let it go and didn't say a thing....  
  
"Oh Eiri.." Shuichi sighed, and gently toyed with the buttons on the author's shirt. "It didn't bother me…it—"  
  
"But it did! Don't lie to me Shuichi!" The author shouted, and drew in a breath, shocked by how coldly he'd bitten off Shuichi's words. He watched the vocalist tremble in his lap, and violet eyes fill with hurt as he searched into the blonde man's own, looking for any sign of remorse. He sighed, and gently stroked Shuichi's cheek, exhaling and looked down. "I hated seeing those eyes filled with tears! I hate knowing what Aisawa did to you and I couldn't stop it! I thought this was the only way to free you. I decided we'd run away, just like I did so many years ago!" He winced, and looked down, staring at the couch in a pause before meeting the eyes of his lover again, "I couldn't tell you. I didn't want it to be ruined, I wanted to get away and get settled, so we could be happy, but...."  
  
The phone rang, interrupting the two and Eiri looked up, and lifted it from the couch. "Moshi Moshi."  
  
"Eiri!" Tohma's normally cool and collected tone voiced panic as it carried through the phone, and Eiri's eyes shifted to look at Shuichi once more and back at the phone.  
  
He mouthed the rest of his sentence. "But of course…" and the arm swept to the phone, "Couldn't come through and help me."  
  
Of all people to call, and now of all times. But he felt a little better. Maybe now he wouldn't have to explain as much. But his thoughts were interrupted as Tohma's panicked voice echoed through the earpiece again.  
  
"Eiri, the papers were signed and Shuichi's gone, Eiri, Shui—"  
  
Shuichi frowned for a minute. Tohma knew? Tohma knew and he'd still faked it so well? No, he couldn't have known. Yet he never knew with Tohma. The keyboardist was definitely one who had the demon inside him. Perhaps it was fear that kept Shuichi in check when around Tohma. Or perhaps it was the keyboardist's love for his own. He knew he should be angry, but all he could care about was what was in front of him..  
  
His Eiri.  
  
"Shuichi is here, Tohma. Thank you for your help. I'll talk to you later." Eiri cut in, and promptly brought the conversation to a close, hanging up on him.  
  
Shuichi looked at him with questioning eyes for a minute, then reading the author's face, understood. Tohma had been to help. He sat the phone down and slid his arms around the vocalist's waist, and stared at him deeply.  
  
"I couldn't just have you telling people things… How could you be better if you are chased wherever you go?" Eiri asked.  
  
He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the vocalist.  
  
"I want to be the only one to chase you." He whispered. He sucked in a breath, and drank in the view that sat before him. He looked down at his hands, and fumbling his own ring, stared back into those deep violet eyes. He knew he could say it, he knew he could….  
  
"Shuichi, would you marry me?"  
  
It'd hadn't been …that… hard to say….  
  
Any barrier that had held back those tears was destroyed as soon as those five words escaped Eiri's mouth.  
  
Saline dripped down Shuichi's cheeks and he cupped Eiri's face, cradling it as he cried. "Yes, of course, yes!" he whispered, and brought his own face forward, lips meeting halfway with the author's.  
  
Kiss.  
  
"I love you, Eiri.."  
  
Pause.  
  
"I love you too, Shuichi."  
  
Kiss.  
  
Arms wound tightly around the vocalist and he snuggled against him, bringing him down to lay on the couch. Sliding his body over the other, he smiled down on his pink-haired lover, and lowered himself to kiss him again.  
  
"I'll never run away…. I promise you Shuichi…"  
  
He smiled down on his lover, and gently nuzzled his cheek. To hell with what anyone thought. This was his happiness. His chance to seize the opportunity for love like everyone else. And even his own coldness wouldn't chase this chance away.  
  
"I'll never run away." 


End file.
